


On Hold

by jessalae



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessalae/pseuds/jessalae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“In four hours, Congress is going to run this country into the ground, and soon everyone’s going to know about all of my humiliating moments from elementary school. October’s going to be <em>great</em>.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [joyeusenoelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joyeusenoelle/gifts).



> Many thanks to my betas, S and SW, for all their help!

September 30th, 2013 8:02 PM

“I still think it’s crass.”

“It’s what Elliot asked for,” the hapless graphics guy told Don in exasperation. “He said put in a countdown clock, and this is what we had.”

“Elliot’s just the talent, I’m the EP, and I think it looks crass.”

“You’ve used that word four times in the last 30 seconds,” Sloan said, coming up behind him silently.

“Why are you in here?” Don asked when his nerves had recovered. “Shouldn’t you be off somewhere talking someone’s ear off about our impending economic catastrophe?”

“That’s what I have you for.” Sloan smiled sweetly. The expression looked out of place on her face. “Besides, it’s even worse than you think.”

Don looked back at the bank of screens one more time. The countdown clock glared back at him cheekily. “I still don’t like it,” he told the graphics guy. “It looks like we’re counting down to the ball drop on New Year’s. Fix it or scrap it.” He turned and wheeled out of the control room, Sloan walking briskly at his side.

When she had followed him halfway to his office without showing any signs of going off to actually do work, he sighed. “How is it worse than I think?”

“My kid sister works for the Department of the Treasury.”

“Kid sister? What is she, some kind of thirteen-year-old prodigy?”

Sloan frowned. “No, she’s twenty-seven.”

“So _kid_ sister isn’t really the most apt descriptor.”

“She’ll always be my kid sister. She’ll still be my kid sister when we’re in our seventies.”

Don let it drop. “She works for the Treasury. So?”

“She’s going to get furloughed if the government shuts down.”

“ _When_ ,” Don corrected. “You can stop pretending we’re not actually going to descend to this colossally stupid depth. Can she not live on her savings for a few days?”

“No, she’ll be fine. But she’s been making noise about coming to visit next time she takes a vacation day, and she _never_ takes her vacation days. She’ll see this as the perfect time to come visit without having to use her PTO.”

They had reached his office by now. Don sat down at his desk, leaning back in his chair. “I’m still not seeing the problem.”

Sloan looked at him incredulously. “My kid sister is going to be hanging around here, tagging along after me and telling everyone my secrets. That’s the problem.”

“You know, I wish you would stop using the term kid sister. I keep imagining her with pigtails and braces,” Don said. “Wait. Secrets? What kind of secrets?”

“Secrets,” Sloan repeated, waving a hand impatiently. “Embarrassing stories. Sordid details of my past. Sister things. You know what it’s like.”

“I’m an only child,” Don said.

Sloan stared at him for a long moment. “In four hours, Congress is going to run this country into the ground, and soon everyone’s going to know about all of my humiliating moments from elementary school,” she said with finality. “October’s going to be _great_.”

***

October 4th, 2013 10:14 AM

Don pinned yet another index card to the bulletin board. _funded with previously authorized and mandatory spending_ , the card read. “If there were any justice in the world, when Congress just decided to take a break, the rest of us would be able to as well.”

“Justice has nothing to do with it,” Elliot said, shuffling through the stack of cards. “Or, rather—we voted the assholes into office. If anything, having to work while they dick around _is_ justice for our stupid decisions.”

“‘Our’ nothing. I voted for sane people.”

“I meant as a whole country. Wait, I thought we wanted that interview clip with that doctor who supports the exchanges before we started talking about funding.”

“Yeah, no, we’re scrapping that.”

“Why?”

“She supports the exchanges, yes,” Don said. “She also supports the Aryan Nation. Openly. We didn’t figure that out until after we had filmed the segment.”

“Seriously? How does that even—” Elliot shook his head. “Who dropped the ball on vetting her?”

“I’m working on that.”

“Hm.” Elliot crumpled up the card and lobbed it towards the wastebasket. It ricocheted off the glass wall of Don’s office and missed the wastebasket by about a foot. “Damn.”

Don levered himself out of his chair to go pick up the card, then stopped dead, staring out of the conference room.

“What?”

“Sloan’s sister is in town,” Don said slowly.

“Oh? That’s nice. Is she furloughed?”

“Yeah,” Don said, setting down his box of pushpins. “I’ll be right back.”

He caught up with Sloan just outside her office. “Hey, did you send me those loss numbers from the states who refused to do Medicare expansions?" As excuses went, it was pretty thin, but better than nothing.

Sloan looked at him with a mixture of fear and contempt in her eyes. "Yeah, like two days ago. I reminded you about it this morning, too. Did you accidentally delete the email again?"

"Oh, you know, now that you mention it I do remember seeing that email," he said, scratching his forehead theatrically. "Sorry. Long day."

"It's 10 AM."

"Going to be a long day. Hey, aren't you going to introduce me to your sister?"

Sloan made a face, then turned and nodded at the woman standing next to her. "This is my sister Addison. Addison, this is Don. He's my boss. Sort of."

"Nice to meet you, Don," Addison said. Her handshake was firm to the point of being painful. "I hope you don't mind me hanging around here for a few days."

"No, not at all," Don said. "I just hope you don't get too bored. Sloan's going to be pretty busy—she's working on a few different shows, and we're really going to need her for as long as this shutdown lasts. She'll probably have to leave you alone a lot." He managed not to smirk at the panic rising in Sloan's face.

"Oh, I don't mind," Addison said. "I'm sure I'll find some way to amuse myself. Compared to my job, this is all so..." She looked around the newsroom. " _Flashy_."

"I need to look over my script for my afternoon update," Sloan said abruptly. “Addie, help me out?"

"Sure," Addison said. She flashed a long-suffering look at Don. "I don’t know how she ended up with a job that requires public speaking. She was so nervous about her first debate tournament in high school that she actually threw up."

" _Now_ , Addison,” Sloan said, practically shoving her sister through her office door. "See you later, Don."

"Yeah." Don let the door swing shut practically in his face, peering through the frosted glass. This could be a very, very good thing. He shook his head to clear it and headed back to where a chagrined Elliot had almost finished putting cards on the bulletin board.

"What was that all about?" Elliot asked, adding a card that read _no negotiations until Repubs agree to raise debt limit_ below _800,000 gov’t employees on indefinite unpaid leave_.

“I just like to know who’s going to be hanging around the office,” Don said. “No, Elliot, that can’t go there—here, just let me do it.”

***

October 4th, 2013 10:26 PM

“Back from commercial in four minutes,” Don announced to the control room, then switched his mic over to the studio channel. “Where’s your sister right now?”

“What?” Sloan asked, looking up from her notepad. Their guest, a British economist who was surprisingly wishy-washy about the merits of the NHS, glanced up and took out his earpiece before returning to his conversation with Elliot.

“Is she in your office?”

“Most likely? We’re going to get dinner after the show.”

“Taking her to Hang Chew’s?”

“No. Why would I do that?” Sloan viciously crossed out something in her notes. “My entire goal for this week is to keep her away from you vultures.”

Don rolled his eyes, hoping that Sloan could hear it. “Seriously, Sloan, what do you think I’m going to do? Ask her about your first crush? Make her show me your school pictures?”

“Yes,” Sloan said bluntly.

Don paused. “Yeah, you’re right. Jess, take the room for the next two minutes, don’t let the panel leave the studio. I’ll be back for the next segment.”

“Wait, what—” Sloan said.

“Gotta go! Nobody leaves the studio,” Don called, tossing Jess his headset and sprinting out of the room.

“Don!”

Don zipped down the hall. This was the height of irresponsibility, he knew that, but apparently fucking around on the job was catching in the current political climate.

He arrived at Sloan’s office only slightly out of breath and poked his head in the door, trying to appear casual. “Oh, sorry, Addison, I didn’t know you were in here.”

Addison looked up from her phone. “Hm? Oh, sorry. Did you need something in here?”

Don screwed up his face. “You know, I did, but now I’ve completely forgotten what it was. I’ll get it next commercial. So, how are you enjoying your time here?”

“It’s been good,” Addison said with a shrug. “I haven’t really met many people, but, you know. This is a nice office.”

“You’ve been in here all day?”

“Yeah.” Addison leaned back in Sloan’s chair. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this about my sister, but she’s kind of mistrustful. I think she thinks I’m going to embarrass her in front of all her coworkers.”

“Huh,” Don said. “Never occurred to me. So, got any dirty little secrets Sloan wouldn’t want me knowing about?”

“Maybe a few, but it’s not going to be _that_ easy to get them out of me.” Addison looked back down at her phone, scrolling casually through her photos. “You’re going to have to give me something in return.”

“A tour of the studio,” Don offered. “Monday morning?”

“I’m going to be out doing touristy things all day Monday, but Tuesday could work.”

“It’s a date,” Don said, pleased with himself. “Well. Not a date. It’s an appointment.”

Addison raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you have a show to be running?”

“Yes I do.” Don sprinted back towards the control room, making it through the door and accepting his headset back from Jess just as Herb got to “We’re back in five…four…”

“I’m going to kill you,” Sloan hissed into her microphone. 

Don tried to think of something to say to that, but the countdown ended before he could. Sloan straightened up, assumed her usual dispassionate expression, and launched into an explanation of the global economic depression that would result if the U.S. defaulted on its debts. Don shrugged and glanced at the clock. Four days in, and from where he stood, this shutdown wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

***

October 7th, 2013 3:24 PM

“Don.”

Don looked up from an email from one of the few non-furloughed workers at the Bureau of Indian Affairs. “Reese. What can I do for you?”

Reese was staring over Don’s shoulder at the bulletin board. Don looked back at it: the preliminary outline for the night’s show was still there, with cards being added all the time to fill in details. “What are you focusing on for tonight’s show?” Reese asked.

“Well, I think this whole What Does The Fox Say viral video thing is pretty newsworthy, so I think we’re mostly going to talk about that,” Don said. He let Reese soak in the sarcasm for a second before continuing. “We’re reporting on the shutdown again. What else would we be focusing on?”

“Nothing. I need to know what _about_ the shutdown you’re focusing on.”

“We’re starting off with the effects on D.C., and the shutdowns of programs for low-income residents. Then we’re moving to the situation on Indian reservations around the country, then Head Start. Basically it’s a people-who-are-extra-screwed-by-this-bullshit kind of theme. 

“Hm,” Reese said. “Are you going to talk about the Senate refusing to pass a mini-appropriations bill to fund D.C.?”

“It’s part of the report, yeah.”

“I think you should focus on it.”

“Why?”

“Because Senate Democrats are blocking the city’s funding through sheer stubbornness, and the people deserve to know about it?”

Don frowned. “I think there’s a little more to it than sheer stubbornness. If the Senate starts passing mini-appropriations bills, the House won’t have any motivation to pass a clean continuing resolution. We could just stay shut down indefinitely, only funding the parts of the government that the House Republicans want to write up a bill for.”

“So it’s all the Republicans’ fault?”

“Basically? Yeah.”

“And that’s where I have a problem,” Reese said, shaking his head. “ACN’s primetime news coverage needs to be more even-handed in assigning blame for the shutdown. We need to make it clear that both sides are playing a role in this crisis.”

“Why?”

“In the last nine broadcasts, Elliot Hirsch and Will McAvoy have been critical of congressional Republicans twenty-five times,” Reese said. “Wanna know how many times they’ve criticized Democrats? Twelve. And eight of those were on your show.”

“So why do we have to be the ones to start blaming Democrats more?” Don asked. “We’re already better than News Night.”

“Will and Mac are never going to change how they do things,” Reese said impatiently. “I need you to step up. The network hasn’t been in a comfortable place politically for a while. This could go a long way to easing some of the tension.”

Don stared at him in disbelief. “Services have been cut on almost every Native American reservation in the country—hundreds of people are going without medical care, emergency financial help, childcare, domestic violence prevention—and you’re worried that we’re not playing the blame game the right way?”

“Just get the thing about the mini-appropriations bills into the show,” Reese said, and marched out of Don’s office.

***

October 8th, 2013 9:38 AM

"And this is the News Night office," Don said, gesturing around the room. "Will McAvoy's office—" he pointed at the door— "Their EP, their reporters, their conference room. Pretty similar to our setup."

"Makes sense," Addison said, looking around happily. The interns stared at her with vaguely hostile confusion. Don had yelled at them a few dozen times about different things, ergo anyone who was with Don must be the enemy. "Your shows are pretty similar, too. You’d need a similar setup."

"What? I mean—really? You think so?" Don couldn’t decide whether to be offended or not. Sloan snickered at his expression.

Addison shrugged. "As far as I can tell. I mean, I watch their show more often, but it's always seemed like they're basically the same." She noticed the look on his face and grinned. "Theirs might be angrier."

"On the surface," Don grumbled. "We have plenty of anger behind the scenes."

"I mean, with my sister, you have to," Addison said. "She's angry at everything all the time."

"Not _all_ the time," Sloan said defensively.

"Okay, seventy-five percent of the time," Addison said. "It's fine, it makes you a better analyst. But you have to admit it's the way it is."

"Am I really angry all the time?" Sloan asked Don.

"Yeah, kind of. But like she said. In a good way."

"Am I angry all the time?" Sloan asked one of the interns, advancing on him. The intern cowered behind his computer and shrugged helplessly. "Am I?" The second intern looked up from her reading as if she hadn't been listening to the conversation until then, and quickly buried her face back in it. "Jim!" she snapped.

Jim looked back over his shoulder, wheeling around on his way to the conference room. "Yeah?"

"Am I always angry?" Sloan demanded.

Jim looked at Don, then at Addison, and back to Sloan. "The honest answer to that question is clearly not the right answer to that question," he said.

"And moving on to the next portion of our tour," Don said quickly, ushering Addison out of the room. Sloan followed them, silently fuming.

They covered the cafeteria, the dayside offices and studios, and the print division before looping back around to the 10 O’clock suite of offices.

"That's Sloan's office, but you've been there already," Don said. "That's my office next door. It looks basically the same as hers, so we don't need to bother going in.”

“Don’t we?” Sloan asked. “We can show her the board for the show today.”

Don grimaced. “It’s not that important.”

“This part is actually interesting, though,” Sloan said. She pushed past Don and barged into his office. Don sighed and followed.

“They plot out the show with index cards,” Sloan told Addison, wheeling the board out from behind Don’s desk. “This is yesterday’s—you can’t get too much detail on there, but you get a broad picture at a glance of what we’re going to be reporting on.”

Addison poked at a card that read _pandacam goes dark at nat’l zoo_. “Did you seriously talk about the Panda Cam?”

“It was one sentence.”

“But it merited its own card?” Addison crouched down to look at the cards for the C-block. “The one for Sloan’s segment just said ‘SLOAN.’”

“She writes her own stuff.”

“I didn’t catch the show last night—I was out at a play,” Addison said, looking closer. “Can I sit down?”

“Carefully,” Sloan said with a smirk.

“This still all seems so surreal,” Addison said, scanning the board. She plucked a card off and looked at it: _White Buffalo Calf Woman Society (Rosebud Res) has to turn DV victims away b/c lack of funds_. “I’m basically on vacation, but this is a lot more serious for a lot of people.”

“We’re keeping up the pressure on Congress,” Sloan said. “They may all be assholes, but some of them might want to get re-elected eventually. The more we spread the word, the more the American public knows what kind of effects this shutdown is having.”

“Let’s move on,” Don said. He led them out into the suite of offices again, gesturing as he went along. “Elliot's office, conference room, desks for the rest of the reporters…and here's the control room." He held open the door to let the two women in ahead of him.

The banks of TV screens were still blank this early in the morning, and the room was eerily silent.

“The graphics team will be in here eventually, prepping for the show tonight. Right now they’re probably editing down the raw footage we already know we want to use.” Don glanced at the clock on the wall. “Speaking of which—”

“You have a show to plan,” Addison finished for him. “Thanks for the tour.”

“Any time.”

“Would you excuse us for a minute?” Sloan asked Don.

“Sure,” Don said. “Just don’t touch anything. If it looks like a button, a dial, or a switch, leave it alone.”

He walked out of the control room and stopped just out of sight, trying to see the sisters through the darkened glass of the door. Addison reached towards a control panel like she was going to touch something, then laughed and held her arms above her head. Sloan said something to her, and she responded with a shrug. Sloan moved, her back blocking the doorway and Don’s view of the conversation. He sighed and went back to his office.

***

October 10th, 2013 4:43 PM

“What did you do to my segment?” Sloan asked, storming into Don’s office.

Don didn’t look up from his computer. “We’re expecting the panel discussion to go long, so I had to cut it down. You can do a longer version tomorrow night.”

“You didn’t cut it down, you completely gutted it. What happened to ‘she writes her own stuff’ from yesterday, huh?”

“You still wrote everything in the script.”

“I wrote a whole lot more. You deleted things that completely change the tone of what I wanted to say.”

Don sighed, steeling himself, and closed his computer. “I got a nice little visit from Reese Lansing the other day.”

Sloan made a face. “What did he want?”

“He wants ACN's coverage of the shutdown to be more ‘even-handed’,” Don said, making quotation marks in the air with his fingers, “which basically means he wants us to pretend like both sides are equally to blame.”

Sloan stared at him for an unbelievably long moment. Don shifted uncomfortably in his seat and cleared his throat. Finally she said, “And you’re going along with this?”

“As little as humanly possible,” Don said. “Your segment really did need to be edited down for length, and this way if he comes in here and bitches at me again, I have some plausible deniability.”

Sloan’s expression didn’t change for the better. “You edited down my analysis in a way that intentionally made it seem like I was blaming both sides equally, even thought that was the opposite of what I wanted to do.”

“Yes, and could you maybe stop by Reese’s office and tell him that?”

“This is ridiculous,” Sloan spat. “Fifty-three percent of the country blames the Republican party for the shutdown. Only thirty-one percent blames the President.”

“Polls can be skewed.”

“Other polls have found the same thing. And the difference is already increasing. Nobody thinks this is a both-sides-are-to-blame thing. Nobody!”

“Except the son of the owner of our network,” Don said. “For the record, I am one hundred percent on your side here, but I don’t have the leverage to completely ignore these kinds of orders. I hate that I don’t, but I don’t.”

Sloan stared at him again, eyes narrowing. “I might have the leverage.”

“I’m an EP.”

“And I’m on three different shows. Look, let’s just see. I might be able to get in to talk to Reese. If it doesn’t work, fine.”

“If it doesn’t, me coming to bat for you probably won’t do much,” Don warned.

“I know. But, just—this is important. This isn’t some little squabble, it’s a major deal, and the public deserves to know who’s responsible.”

“The public knows,” Don said.

“And we should be confirming it,” Sloan said. She turned to leave, but turned back. “No matter what Reese says, I’m doing my full segment tomorrow.”

“Noted,” Don said. “Hey, is Addison around today?”

“She’s over at the News Night offices,” Sloan said. “I may have to bring her back over here, though. Will’s walking around making sarcastic comments about it not being Take-Your-Miscellaneous-Relatives-To-Work Day.”

“Just throw her in with Mac, she’ll be fine with it,” Don said re-opening his computer. “And tell her she owes me some dirty secrets.” He felt rather than saw the icy glare Sloan shot him before leaving the room.

***

October 11th, 2013 12:47 PM

“Your turn,” Don said to Addison, poking his head around the door of Sloan’s office.

“My turn to what?” she asked.

“I gave you a tour of the building; you promised to tell me more about Sloan.”

“Buy me lunch? I don’t know when my next paycheck’s coming in.” Addison pouted.

“Hope you don’t mind cafeteria food.”

“Don,” Elliot called, spoiling all of Don’s fun. “Can you come here for a minute?”

“Will it really be just a minute?” Don asked, keeping his head in Sloan’s office.

“Probably not,” said Reese’s voice.

Don made a face. “Rain check?” he asked Addison.

“Sure,” she said. “I’m only around until the government opens up again, though, so be careful you don’t run out of time.”

“I know. It’s creating all sorts of moral issues for me.”

“How so?”

“I want us to have a functioning government again, but not until I’ve had the chance to find out what you know.”

“Don,” Elliot called again.

Don hurried over to Elliot’s office. “What’s up?”

“Reese was just telling me about his request to you, a few days ago.” Elliot’s expression was as calm as ever, but his voice made it clear how he felt about the request. “Care to comment?”

“I edited down Sloan’s segment from yesterday’s show,” Don said with a straight face. “I thought it was a little too one-sided.” He refrained from using scare quotes this time.

“And how did Sloan feel about that?”

“She was displeased.”

“I understand that you don’t like being told what to report,” Reese said, “But the network is in a delicate political position. If you would like for us to be able to continue paying you, we need to not have our coverage be completely biased in one direction.”

“I don’t like being told to report things that are more or less false, no,” Elliot said. “And I seem to remember the network ending up in a delicate political position thanks to inaccurate reporting not too long ago.”

“This is entirely different—”

“A bit, but— ”

“No,” Reese said firmly, cutting Elliot off. “The question of who to blame for the shutdown is subjective, not objective. All I’m asking is for you to showcase a slightly different opinion. You want to set yourselves apart from News Night? This is how you do it.” He turned on his heel and left the room.

Elliot stared at the door as it swung closed, then raised his eyebrows. “That’s one way to win an argument.”

“He almost has a point, since it is a subjective issue, but more than half the country thinks the Republicans are at fault,” Don said. “Pandering to the minority opinion won’t change that, it’ll just make us look out of touch.”

“So we just ignore the whole issue. Don’t assign blame to either side, let people draw their own conclusions.”

“That could work.”

“Or maybe,” Elliot said, pointing a finger at Don, “We point out the conclusions they’ve already drawn.”

“Cover the polls,” Don said, nodding. “There should be new ones coming out soon.”

“Use that stupid twitter-input feature to our advantage.”

“Man-on-the-street interviews, if we really want to go that far.”

“It’s a nice fuck-you to Reese,” Elliot said. “And it gets the point of view out there without having it technically be our point of view.”

“I’ll go clear the board and get the reporters on it.”

***

October 14th, 2013 12:31 PM

 

“Nice show last night,” Addison said as they settled into their table in the ACN cafeteria. “Sloan told me what you came up with. I totally would have done one of your random interviews.”

“Wouldn’t have been quite random if you had,” Don pointed out, picking up his sandwich. “Anyway, there’s other information I want from you, so spill.”

“What did you want to know?”

Don shrugged, trying to chew up the huge bite he had just taken. “Whatever you’ve got,” he said. “Embarrassing moments, funny stories, stupid nicknames. Gimme the works.”

Addison took a bite of her salad, frowning thoughtfully. “Hm. I already told you about the debate tournament.”

“Yeah.”

“Her best friend when she was a kid was this boy who was a total loser—shy, super awkward, dorky glasses, the works. They were pretty inseparable.”

“Okay.”

“She and her first crush swore they were going to marry each other. Like, they were actually serious about it. Our dad was pissed—he’s kind of conservative—but he came around eventually.” Addison took another bite. “He had to tell my mom some weird shit to cover up for them, though.”

“Interesting.”

“One time a bunch of Russian peasants rode in and totally trashed her wedding. Ripped up the pillows and everything. We all had to stay behind and clean it up. I was so mad.”

“You’re talking about the oldest daughter in Fiddler on the Roof, aren’t you?”

“Isn’t it a great show?” Addison said, smiling brightly. “My favorite part was always how close the sisters were.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Sloan only watched it all the way through once, and then after that she refused to. She would stop at the happy part of the wedding scene because the rest was too sad. There, that’s something about her.”

Don stared at her. “Did you ever have any intention of telling me embarrassing things about her?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Then I’ve wasted my time here.”

“Have you?” Addison took a sip of her soda, eyeing Don expectantly. When he didn’t take the bait, she rolled her eyes. “Do you seriously expect me to believe you want to hear about Sloan’s stuffed animals and horrible 90s fashion choices? You’re what, in your mid-thirties? You’re too old for that crap.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that immaturity is very in right now. Our nation’s elected representatives are giving us all a fine example of it.”

“Says the man who knows when his next paycheck will be arriving, and can therefore joke about it,” Addison said. “But seriously. Is there anything you honestly wanted to know, or was this all a charade to piss Sloan off?”

Don bit into his sandwich to buy himself time to think. Addison was still staring expectantly at him when he finished chewing, though, so he had to answer. “A little of both,” he said with a grimace. “It’s fun to piss her off—then at least she pays attention to me. And I keep thinking, maybe if I just knew her a little better—but it’s hard.”

“She’s not an easy person to get to know,” Addison said, nodding. “I’ve been trying for twenty-seven years, and I can still only get through to her about seventy-five percent of the time.”

“Any tips?” Don asked. “Things I should know that would actually help me?”

“Sure,” Addison said, scooping up another bite of her salad. “But you’ll have to ask Sloan.”

Don sighed. “Well. How are you enjoying New York?”

“It’s been great! I’ve particularly enjoyed how some of the tourist attractions are actually still open.”

***

October 16th, 2013 12:03 AM

“Hey,” Don said, poking his head into Sloan’s office. “Got a minute?”

“Sure. Addison’s not here, though,” Sloan said. “You’ve got nobody to grill.”

Don let that one slide. “That was a great interview tonight. You really ripped that guy a new one.”

“Yeah, well, those Generation Opportunity assholes deserve it. That Creepy Uncle Sam ad is seriously disturbing.”

“I think that was the point.”

Sloan settled back in her chair. “So, what’s on the agenda for tonight? Going to Hang Chew’s?”

Don made a face. “I think I’m going to skip it tonight.”

“Another round of 20 questions with my sister, then? She’s still around here somewhere.” Sloan’s smile had absolutely no humor in it.

“Why is this such a big deal to you?” Don asked.

“Why is it such a big deal to _you_?” Sloan shot back. “Honestly, you’re better than this. This juvenile asshole shtick is even worse than your trying-too-hard-to-be-a-good-guy thing.”

“Would you give me the time of day if I weren’t constantly poking you with a stick?”

“A far as it’s necessary to do our job, yes.”

“Well, maybe I’m interested in going beyond that.” Don threw up his hands. “Hell, maybe I even want to be friends. You’re allowed to do that even with people you’ve had awkward encounters with in the past.”

Sloan was quiet for a long time. Then she said, “When Addison was four, my mom came downstairs at five in the morning and found her sitting in front of the open freezer with a spoon in each hand, eating ice cream out of the carton.”

Don blinked. “That is something I did not know.”

“Just a little bit of payback for whatever she told you about me. Now we’re even.”

“She didn’t tell me anything, Sloan.”

“Oh.” Sloan frowned. “Then I guess we’re not even.”

“We don’t have to tell her that.”

“Don’t we?”

“Nah. She’ll be heading back to D.C. soon anyway. The Reid-McConnell bill’s going to pass today. When’s she going to come visit again?”

“In February, when the debt limit comes up for a vote again and we go through this whole shitshow all over again,” Sloan said with a straight face.

“Jesus.” Don shook his head. “How the fuck did we get here?”

“Never ask Will that question,” Sloan said. “He’s got a forty-minute rant on the subject.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not sure ‘anti-intellectualism’ is even a word, but he sure thinks it is. And uses it liberally.”

Don considered that for a moment, then gave up. “Hey, did you really almost throw up after your first debate tournament?”

“Food poisoning,” Sloan said adamantly. “I had food poisoning.”

“Right.”

“I haven’t eaten at Taco Bell since.”

“See, this is the kind of thing I need to know,” Don said. “What if I had decided to buy you a Taco Bell gift card for your birthday?”

“We wouldn’t stay friends for very long.”

“Duly noted,” Don said. He left Sloan to her own devices and headed back to his office. If the rumors were true, they would have a functioning government in the morning, and he would have a board full of cards to replace.


End file.
